Martyr
by S.N. Rainsworth
Summary: They would knock on God's door. Who was God not to answer? Oh wait - he was God.


It wasn't a dream.

Empty space. White translucent nothingness that faded into the borders of insanity. There was a sufficient diffusion with the light of the place and the air around to prevent perception of distinctive images. Not that there _were,_ any images, per say. Clear, lucid, limpid and blunt, the name of the ordeal in which he was in did it no justice for what it really was.

_Truth._

The name itself caused fear into the minds of men; and humans being the most arrogant and self-minded of them all. Being so, they made themselves forget, made themselves think of anything else but their looming creator which they would inevitably return to one day. They didn't think of it, and slowly, surely, the Gate and the Truth faded into nothing but a prick in their subconsciousness, only returning when they would feel fear; when they would feel despair and agony, shame and desperate - because that is what the Truth was, is, and forever will be.

But then - listen to this, it's so _laughable_ - they wanted to remember again! Truth would grin sickly, vile and disgusted, at their behavior. Weren't _they _they ones to caused themselves to forget? Weren't _they_ the ones who pushed it back into their minds, not wanting to deal with it? Humans were petty creatures, so afraid of Truth; not only the Truth, but also the truth. They were afraid to speak aloud the details, hiding themselves in shrouds of lies and deceit.

It was fun to watch.

And It waited, patiently, for each arrogant human that wished to come back to him - he wouldn't allow it, he wouldn't allow them to gain It's knowledge, because humans were definitely so _selfish_ and didn't deserve it - and he would throw them away.

They would knock on God's door. Who was God not to answer?

[Oh, wait - he's God.]

Despite that, Truth had looked over the Gate since the beginning of time, when God formed the universe from nothingness, created a single light, a single warmth from darkness and turned it into something beautiful. He was here since then; he understood the Gate more than anyone. And he even argued that there should only be _one_ Gate - but _no,_ God was even _more_ gracious and tried to _save_ his creation when Truth gave up on them, scorning down on them. God placed a small, tiny Gate in every human, knowing painfully well that they would still shove it out of fear - but yet, when those who were brave enough to face the Truth, face the Gate, they had gained God's forgiveness, even though they were marked as a sinner among saints.

They didn't understand that it was really a saint among sinners. A saint among millions of sinners.

Truth hated those who thought that they were so great - thought that they were the best, thought humans were the only source of living intelligence in the universe. He hated them, but he loved God who loved them, so he was forced to obey orders.

Truth was the highest thing they would ever see - because he was always watching over the Gate, the Gate in which God resided in. And when foolish humans came, he gave them their knowledge, and in return he took their price. Which usually killed them.

It took their bodies, their souls, their lives, their everything. And every time they came, it would do it without a second thought. And it would do it so frequently, that Truth himself, did the thing that it never expected; it forgot.

It forgot that God was weeping every time that his creation wished to come back when it wasn't their time to come back. It forgot that not all of the prices were being balanced by equivalent exchange. It forgot to be fair, it forgot to be above all of them and sank a degree lower to their level, arrogant. And Truth hated it when God was weeping for those creations, even though it hated them.

So he made himself do the best he could at not over-taxing them. But he would leave them with his own mark; the mark that they were a saint among sinners, even if they thought the opposite.

He had realized this when a woman came to the doors, searching for her lost child. The Gate and the Truth almost took away her life, but instead Truth - for the first time - hesitated, and instead took away the only true happiness it could give her. God stopped crying, and Truth was glad. But he was even more glad when he saw that foolish human, never able to smile properly again, throwing up blood as her constant reminder of her punishment and her forgiveness. God was happy; and so was it.

Then another one came; a child this time. It had been so long [for it at least] since that last one came, and Truth had been lazy, unforgiving, back to his cruel self. He took away the child body, watching wide eyes disintegrate. He had been blinded; blinded by the hate for this child's father, the only human who was able to escape his grasp, so it folded in itself before realizing it made God cry again.

So it allowed another child, at the price of and arm and leg, to bring back the blood kin of his. Truth was sitting in satisfaction, in nothingness, in blank and white, in the middle of insanity as it watched another human know the truth.

And God was happy again. And Truth was also happy again.

Because Truth _hated _the creation, even if the creator loved it. So he marked them, punished them while God blessed them, making them not entirely a divine being but not exactly mortal either.

Humans were foolish. But as Truth looked at one human in particular, looking and watching and observing as he kept coming back with a determined, stubborn face and knowledge beyond his years, Truth decided that not all of them were so bad. Truth could feel God grin at it's revelation.

[It didn't make him like them anymore, however.]

On the other side of the Gate, the whispers were silent.

.

.


End file.
